


NERO's Angel

by SerkonanBloodLilly



Category: Days Gone (Video Game)
Genre: Also some blood in the later chapters, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, There will be swearing, lots and lots of swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-05-31 15:33:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19428892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerkonanBloodLilly/pseuds/SerkonanBloodLilly
Summary: James O'Brian/Catherine Lyithara (OC)Please note, this fic is one MASSIVE work in progress. Updates will be random and sporadic.________________________________________________James is one man.One researcher among a hundred others.And the Captain.The Captain is something else entirely.





	1. Not Like The Rest

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at @mcbacondaddy on tumblr if you have any questions on this fic. 
> 
> I'm more likely to reply there.
> 
> That said, I've just come of a 3 year writers block, so I thoroughly apologize if my writing is subpar.

"Oh, this is stupid."

"They jipped us of our leisure time, for this?"

James winces, standing amongst the crowd below the stage.

He'd agree, all things considered. This announcement had come up out of the blue. From what he'd caught on the way, and what little he'd heard from the loudspeakers over the many groans of displeasure, the CEO had been brought in to introduce and induct a new group of soldiers; some to replace those they'd lost the week previously. Swarmed during a field operation.

The crowd around him quiets as NERO's CEO takes the stage, tugging on his suit. He salutes, the faint traces of a grimace on his face as he addresses the crowd.

"Good Evening, ladies and gentlemen." He sucks in a breath, glancing down at his notes on the podium.

James can't help but roll his eyes as the CEO chokes out a 'sorrowful' speech over the lives lost in the most recent op. The man doesn't care. He's just playing the part. After his speech, he announces the names of each new soldier, and one researcher; taking the stage as their name is called. Replacements for the ones they lost. Name after name, person after person. Seven total. Or so James had thought.

"Last but certainly not least, Captain Lyithara."

A woman emerges from the behind the induction row, taller than average, holding herself with the stature of a true soldier. He hadn't even noticed her.

Oh, but he did now, as the CEO orders her to stand at ease.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Captain Catherine 'Polaris' Lyithara." He pauses, shuffling his notes before continuing. "It is my belief that Ms. Lyithara is one of the first Captains to be brought to this facility, and I can assure you, she is worthy of her rank. To all soldiers and researchers, please note, Captain Lyithara will be given her own squad; those who will be serving under her will be drawn and posted in the next forty-eight hours."  
The CEO straightens, and salutes. "Company dismissed."

He then all but rushes off the stage, back to whatever European penthouse suite the bastard lives in.

The Captain, however, remains on stage, though quite a few have already left the room. Her presence is… commanding, as she stands silent, eyes skimming through the remains of the crowd. James catches the slightest glimpse of a smirk as she turns, descends from the stage.

This one. This one isn't like the rest.


	2. That'll Have To Do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fingers crossed this chapter dose well, because the longer I stare at it the worse it looks.
> 
> Hail Mary.  
> 

* * *

He'd slept well enough that night.

Thought nothing more about the new troops. Pondered over his notes, jotted down more theories, gone to the labs come six am.

A couple others had been there when he arrived, coffee in hand. Lieutenant Booth, and Lieutenant Bentley, comparing theories. He'd instead settled off to their left, leaving them to their research, and him to his own. As the hours pass, other researchers trickle in and out of the lab, coming and going as their schedules demanded. James, however, has no field operations scheduled for the next twenty-eight hours.

He'd been rather absorbed in a fresh tissue sample when a sharp beep sounded throughout the lab, the L.E.D above the door illuminated with bright green. The automated voice response sounds. "ACCESS GRANTED. Welcome, Captain Lyithara."

James cocks a brow, leaning back slightly to peer towards the door. ' _Lyithara'?_

Several heads fly up from their work, seemingly just as confused. The door slides open with a faint 'whoosh', revealing none other than the Captain. She takes a step inside, glancing around the lab with interest, or at least, what seems like it. After a moment of observation, she begins to pace around the room, continuing to observe, ignoring the stares of confusion and annoyance from his colleagues.

He can see her better now, better than he could yesterday. She looks to be roughly five foot eight, her long, blonde hair tipped with dark red — hair dye, he assumes, from long before; dressed in the standard off-duty attire, save the tank top. In one hand, she holds a mug full of something, which she stops to sip on occasion. He also notices a clipboard tucked underneath her left armpit, the 'N.E.R.O' acronym printed in large, black lettering atop the page. Whatever could that be for?

"Uh, excuse me?" A voice pipes up, breaking the tense silence that had settled upon the room since the Captain had entered. Lieutenant Bentley.

The Captain hums, turning her head towards him, she raises a brow. Her gaze is cold, unwavering as Bentley visibly shrinks under her scrutiny.

"Captain uh…" His eyes searched her person for her ID, which, of all things, is clipped to her right pants pocket. "Lithe- uh, Lithe-aura? What um, are you doing in here?"

She chuckles, seemingly bemused. "I'll say it for you once: Lith-are-ah."

She then gestures to a swivel chair to her right, the workspace unoccupied. "Is it alright if I sit?"

It's not a question, but a declaration phrased as one. As if anyone in the room had the authority to tell her 'no'. A couple heads nod regardless as she slides into the chair mid-approval.

She sets the clipboard down with a sigh, bringing her mug to her lips. "As for why I'm 'in here', as opposed to, Lieutenant Bentley?"

"In the, uh, Soldiers Commons, ma'am."

"Ah," she hums, sitting back in the chair. As if her presence could be any more commanding. "Because I can be."

Bentley, along with many others in the lab, look slightly bewildered.

"You- you what?" Bentley stammers.

"As a Captain, I have full clearance to be in the labs, and to remain in the labs, for as long as I please," she pauses to smirk. "As well as many other places, for that matter. But, that's not why I'm 'in here', specifically."

James would be lying if he said he wasn't impressed. For better or worse, this woman is indeed a cut above the regular goons; if only for her charismatic charm.

"Would you mind telling us, then?" Lieutenant Booth asks, looking far more annoyed than most.

The Captain takes another sip from her mug. "I have, mm..." she glances at a small, black watch around her right wrist, NERO branded, much like his own. "T-minus thirty-nine hours until I am consider active, and until then, I am off-duty. Free time, if you will, to set up and the like."

"What does this have to do with you interrupting our work?" Booth interjects. "Surly you would understand how important it is."

"I can assure you I understand, Lieutenant Booth. However-" The Captain raises an eyebrow. "Despite seeing a good handful of your faces at induction, I don't know who you are — other than researchers. Lieutenant Bentley, you asked why I wasn't in the Commons?"

Bentley nods.

The Captain continues. "I've met most of my underlings, I'll meet the rest in time. You researchers, however, I have not."

Everyone in the lab seems slightly stunned by the Captain's words. Not one soldier, ever, had taken time out of their _free schedule_ to introduce themselves.

"So you… came to introduce yourself?" Bentley asks.

The Captain nods, giving them a small smile. "Captain Catherine 'Polaris' Lyithara, Cate for short. At your service."

With that, she turns to her clipboard, snagging a pen from the countertop. It's silent, save for the sound of pens scratching and the soft whirr of lab equipment. Slowly, each researcher falls back into their work.

"...Excuse me, Captain?"

Cate glances up at Bentley, before returning her focus to her clipboard.

"What's with the papers? Are you doing a lab audit?"

Cate laughs, short and abrupt. "Oh no, that's not my job."

"Oh." Bentley mutters, scrunching his brows in confusion. "Then what is-"

"Paperwork."

"I uh- What I mean is-"

"Another reason why I'm in here," her pen comes to a halt as she fixes Bentley with a stern glare. "Compared to how loud the Commons get, this is heaven in comparison. Will that be all, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, Captain," Bentley gulps, turning back towards his work with haste.

"She better not break anything…" Booth mutters, as Cate sets her mug onto the countertop.

Time passes, and Cate is quite, pen scratching away at each paper on her clipboard. James had been peeking over at it on occasion, catching small bits of information. The form on top seemed to be some sort of NERO 'Sector Informational' document, something similar to what he'd filled out after being transferred to research. Though it's… much thicker than his was. After completing it, she unclips something else from underneath, laying it atop the previous document. It's in a different format, the NERO logo printed in the middle of the header. From what he could make out, the paper read: 'NERO: Specialty Weapons Request, Elite Priority'. So, she's elite? Whatever that is. Perhaps he'd have to ask around.

"Something I can help you with, Lieutenant O'Brian?" Cate whispers, low and sharp.

He nearly jumped out of his chair, sheepishly meeting her gaze. _Oh God_. He hadn't made it that obvious, had he? He'd sworn he'd been cautious enough to avoid alerting her.

"I, uh- I- I don't think so, Captain," he sputters. His face is burning as he feigns busying himself with his work. What kind of first impression was that?! He'd made himself not only look like a fool, but a snoop at that. To a higher up. A person with more authority than he could ever dream of having.

Cate merely sighs, a subtle amusement in her tone as she sets the pen back onto the countertop. "As I'm certain, Lieutenant…"

After tucking her clipboard back under her armpit, she stands, mug in hand as she makes her way to the door. It beeps, slides open, and she steps out into the hall. Disappearing from view as it slides shut.

James brings his head into his hands and exhales, loudly; dishivling his hair as he drags his hands over his face. He has a PhD. He has a goddamn PhD, and that woman has just made him feel like more of an idiot and a fool than he ever has in his entire life. Granted, it was his fault. He really shouldn't have been snooping on her. He supposes, glancing down at his watch, that he should apologize to her. If only to avoid the consequences of his actions. 9:47.

He peers over at his notes, what little work he'd gotten done over the few hours before the Captain's interruption. Not enough.

Perhaps, he thinks, an apology will have to wait until tonight. Sometime after dinner, when he knows he has free time.

 _Yes_ , he thinks. _That'll have to do._


	3. Have You Met The Captain?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a continuation of chapter 2, because of the, y'know, sheer size of it.
> 
> It will get more interesting after this chapter, that I can promise.

* * *

* ** _BEEP BEEP*_ **

James sighs, lifting his arms over his head to stretch. 

His watch chirps once again, shrill in the quiet of the lab. He pushes a button on the side of his watch, dismissing the alarm, glancing at the time as he sets about cleaning his workspace. 

21:35. 

Well… at least he'd gotten _something_ done.

Papers assembled, and equipment put away, he exits the lab, making his way to his solo room within the soldier's barracks. He'd been lucky, he supposes, to get a Single bunk all to himself; instead of being forced to bunk in pairs, as the usual protocol. Two per room, same sex. Each to their own side. Twin bunks, they call them. 

He'd lived in one with another researcher for about half a year, before the man had been promoted, and moved to another facility. A Twin bunk itself consists of a bed — single-size mattress, to each side of the wall. As well as small desks at the foot of the bed, against the bathroom walls, with storage compartments above and below the bed itself. The bathrooms inside a Twin bunk are… comically small, but serve their purpose. If he could recall, there was about one foot of space between the toilet, and the vanity; with the fiberglass of the shower wall pressed against the vanity's side. Very little room, but that was the intent in the design. To pack as many as possible into one building, but still provide modest living. 

More like _tiny_ living in his opinion. He snorts, lifting his ID to the key reader. The L.E.D flashes green, and the door slides open. After his bunk-mate had been promoted, James had been an odd number out. Since HQ had no intent of bringing in any more researchers, he'd been told there was little point in him staying in that bunk. So, they'd promoted him to a Single bunk instead. The room he resides in now. 

A Single, turns out, is no larger size-wise than a Twin. It simply lacks the second bed, and the one remaining is a double mattress. The desk is instead pushed against the opposite wall, and a small closet is installed where it would normally be. As per the name, the bunk only contains one bathroom, though it is slightly more spacious than that of a Twin. 

James sighs. He would admit, it did get a little lonely at times. The silence would occasionally get to him, and he'd flip on the bathroom fan just for some white noise. He would also admit, however, he doesn't miss the lack of privacy. He grimaces, draping his lab coat over the back of his desk chair. There's a good number of images he wishes he could wipe from his mind from that half year… He shudders, stepping into the small en-suite to clean up before dinner. 

He'd, thankfully, been much more productive after the Captain had left, though he'd stress the word. It'd gone well until lunch had rolled around. Been so absorbed he'd forgotten what a fool he made of himself that morning.

He left the lab to grab an MRE from Canteen, refill his coffee with the instant packets that come inside. It isn't particularly _good_ coffee, but it's caffeine regardless. On his way to Canteen, however, he'd caught up to the Captain. Or more, ran into her. 

Literally.

He hadn't been paying too much attention to anything, and walked directly into her exiting Administration. He had, in his defense, also attempted to catch her, but she'd been a lot heavier than he anticipated. For such a skinny looking thing, she certainly wasn't light. Cate hit the ground with an audible 'THUD', clipboard bouncing off the tiles as her papers flew everywhere. He'd stared at her in absolute horror, paralyzed.

The Captain was silent, blinking up at James from her position on the floor. She'd landed flat on her ass, which was better than the alternatives, but she looked no more pleased about it than he felt. 

"Fucking, ouch," Cate hissed, glaring at him.

It was then he snapped out of his stupidor, regret blooming in his chest. "Oh- oh my God! I'm so sorry, Captain Lyithara, I-" 

The Captain raised a hand, silencing him. A cold look in her eyes, she began to gather her papers up from the ground.

James, though a bit stunned, dropped to his knees to help her, swiftly collecting the rest of them up from the floor. One page in particular caught his eye, the form she'd been filling out when she caught him snooping. It was indeed a weapons request form. For specialty weapons. With elite priority. But, he thought the most soldiers were allowed were the standard issue submachine guns? 

A cough caught him off guard, looking up to find the Captain's hand open, and awaiting her papers. 

"Oh!" He blurted out. "Here you are." 

"Yes," she hissed. "Here I am."

The sheer bitterness in her tone caught him off guard, wincing as he stood and offered his hand to her. She merely glared at him as she continued to sort her papers, aligning them with one another before securing them to her clipboard. After a moment, her expression softened. She muttered something, sighing deeply before she took his hand. 

Perhaps his own expression had betrayed his confusion, because she laughed at him as he helped her to her feet. 

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

He merely stared at her as her hand left his, tentatively pressing against her ass.

"You didn't- mmm-" A hiss of pain interrupts her, escaping through clenched teeth. "I don't think you meant to do that."

"No," he shook his head, "and I can assure you I feel horrible about it, Captain. Will you-"

"I will be fine. It's just bruising." 

"I um- Understood, Captain. Is there anything I can do to make it up you?"

She chuckled, shaking her head with a 'tsk'. "You've already apologized, O'Brian. I don't think anything further is necessary." 

"James," he blurted.

The Captain raised a brow. 

_Smooth one, James._ _Shout your name at her. That always makes for a good first impression!_

_Oh wait! You ruined that already!_

"Ah- um, excuse me. It's James. James O'Brian." He extended his hand to her again, and this time, she took it without hesitation. 

"James," Cate repeated, shaking his hand with a small smile. "It's nice to meet you." 

As she pulled away, her watch beeped. 

"Oh, Goddamnit," she hissed, smile fading. "Pardon me, Lieutenant. I need to go." 

With that said, she turned on her heels, and rushed off. Veering right around a group of soldiers that had rounded the corner.

James sighs, staring at his reflection in the mirror. 

"An idiot," he mutters. "That's what you are." 

His watch beeps, and he glances down at the time. 22:15. _Oh shit._

He huffs, tossing the cloth he'd been using into the laundry bin by the door as he steps out from the bathroom. He snags his ID from his lab coat, the door to his bunk sliding open as he bursts into the hallway, sprinting down the corridor to Canteen. He mentally scolds himself for spending so long spacing out. Now, he was going to be late. Not that they didn't feed you if you were. Plenty of people miss dinner hours, by choice or otherwise. The only major difference, is that all the good options are available if you're _not_ late. 

He makes it to the dining hall with a moment to spare, making his way to the Canteen line. Thankfully, there's some of the more palatable MRE's left in the dwindling options. They get restocked biweekly by airdrop, but he'd still rather have a say in what he gets. Let some sorry bastard on night op get stuck with split pea soup instead.

Tray in hand, he moves over to one of the empty tables. He's not even able to sit before Corporal Adkov plops down in the chair opposite of him; grinning like he just found the cure for the Hooligan virus. James raises a brow. He knows from experience that when Adkov grins, it's not necessarily for a _good_ reason. He sighs, sitting himself down. "Should I even ask, or are you just going to tell me?"

The Corporal smacks a hand to his chest, feigning a hurt expression. "You wound me, James." 

Within seconds, his grin is back to normal, however; dark eyes glittering with mischief. 

"Now tell me," Adkov leans forward, staring at him intently, "have you met the Captain?"

James barks out a laugh. So sudden and abrupt that Adkov seems genuinely surprised.

"...I'll take that as a yes?"

"Heaven have mercy, Adkov!" James groans. 

The Corporal has torn into his dinner, regarding his superior with mild amusement. He lets out a low whistle as James drops his head into his hands. "She did you THAT badly, huh? Damn, Lieutenant," he chuckles. 

"I mean-" He pauses to swallow a spoonful of his pasta. "She is _smoking hot_. It's all the boys have been talking about all day — and last night, for that matter." 

" _Adkov!_ " James hissed, snapping upward to glare at his friend. "That is insubordination and that can get you discharged!"

Adkov blinks at him, undeterred. "Oh I know."

James barely resist the urge to throw something at him. He's not… wrong. The Captain is… is…

_Gorgeous._

He sucks in a breath through clenched teeth. "You're an idiot."

"Again," Adkov smirks, shoveling up another spoonful of pasta. "I know."

He sticks the spoon in his mouth, words muffled as he chews. "So, haph you meph the Caphin?"

James sighs, picking up his own MRE. "Yes, yes I have. And I can't particularly say it went well." 

"Oh?" Adkov raises a brow. "Do tell."

"She came- Jesus-"James struggles with the packet for a moment, before reaching for his fork. "-into the lab this morning to meet us, the researchers. As well as to work on some papers in peace." 

"Did Bentley piss himself?" 

James fixes Adkov with an unamused glare. 

Adkov merely shrugs. "What? She is intimidating, even I'll admit that."

James blinks at him for a moment, comparing the six foot five Russian man, who on occasion gives orders in his mother-tongue on accident, to Cate; a five foot eight woman whom he'd only truly met this morning. "...Bentley did not piss himself, no."

Adkov looks disappointed, but gestures for him to continue anyway.

"She had some sort of form I've never seen before. Header read: NERO: Speciality weapons request, elite priority." 

"Woah, hold on," Adkov raises a finger, pointing it at him. "You're trying to tell me she can get weapons _other_ than our regular semi-automatic?" 

"I don't know," James sighs, pinching his brow. "But I haven't the slightest clue as to what her being 'elite' means."

Adkov chuckles. "Well, that's a first."

"Shut up."

"Ooh, touchy today," Adkov teases, leaning back in his chair. "That's fine, I suppose I don't have to tell you then."

"Tell me what?"

"What an elite is."

James meets Adkov's eyes. At this point, he's particularly annoyed with the man, but if he knows, then he'd rather hear it from him. He gestures for him to continue. 

Adkov grins, looking far too pleased with himself. "NERO 'Elite' are soldiers that have been serving long before the outbreak, that survived the initial one. They've been given special training, I believe. Better than what we have. Supposedly, they are much more reliable than those drafted in from the military, recruited in from the streets before, y'know, total lockdown. I've yet to see her in action, but she certainly seems promising." 

"...That almost sounds feasible."

Adkov snorts. "You don't have to believe me, James. But that's the truth."

"I'll agree with you on one thing, Adkov, the Captain dose seem promising." 

Adkov's watch beeps, and he curses. "Well, I have to go. My helo leaves soon." 

He claps a hand on James shoulder as he stands, causing him to wince. "Behave yourself now, Lieutenant." 

"How about you take your own advice for once?" James grumbles, shoveling his dinner into his mouth. Adkov hadn't heard him, but that had been the point. He eats the rest of his dinner in solitude, save the crinkling of wrappers as he fights with the MRE's packaging. 

It's about 23:49 when he exits the Dining Hall. Nearly midnight, and about time that he went to bed. His next field op is scheduled to leave at 9 AM, after all. 

He stifles a yawn as he approaches his room, holding his ID to the card reader. The door slides open, and he steps inside, hastily removing his boots. 

Now, as he lays on his back, staring up at the gray ceiling; feeling his fatigue begin to take hold as the world ebbs away.

He can't help but feel he's forgotten something.


	4. What Have I Done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James recalls that chat he wanted to have with the Captain, and finds he may have a rival for her affections.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this chapter is boring, I apologize. 
> 
> Everything starts to get real in the next coming chapters. So, please hold on until then. .3.

* * *

"Annnd, touchdown. That's it boys, you're free to go." 

"Thank you, Sergeant," James grumbles, stepping down from the helicopter. 

The Sergeant nods, ushering the rest of her squad out of the helo. "Just doing my job, Lieutenant."

"Yes, I'm sure..." James mutters, briskly making his way to the Prep room. Decontamination comes first, walking through the set of illuminated tunnels with the HAZMAT suit on, before removing it in the last room; sending it off for further sterilization. He huffs, stepping into the locker room beyond Prep, inputting his locker code into his locker. 

He had hated every second of the op. 

It'd gone terribly wrong from the start. Despite weather conditions, HQ refused to cancel the operation. One would think 'heavy winds' would be enough of a reason to postpone the op, at the very least. Especially when the mission objective itself wasn't anything pivotal. HQ, however, disagreed; and he'd spent the morning getting tossed around the helicopter with the rest of the squad he'd assigned.

When they'd finally made it out to the designated landing zone, it had been swarming with infected. So, they'd spent _three_ hours circling the area, waiting for it to clear out enough that they could feasibly make the LZ secure. It never did. Instead, they got redirected to a cave to check the status of a motion sensor, replace it if need be. Lo and behold, it had to be replaced, and what did they not have amongst the equipment inside the helo? A spare motion detector. 

The entire operation had been a complete waste of his time, from start to finish. Now, he's two hours behind schedule. They were supposed to be back by 13:00, sharp. They'd landed at 15:12. James sighs, pulling on his lab coat. It also hadn't helped that halfway through the operation, he realized what he'd forgotten last night. He never apologized to Cate for his rudeness the morning previous. Adkov had distracted him, and by the time he would've been able to seek her out, he was too tired to remember. 

He hoped to find her now, as he made his way out of the locker room, rounding the corner. Perhaps she was in the Soldier's Commons? Her forty-eight hour grace period was up, as far as he knew, but it was possible she hadn't been assigned to any field op's yet.

Or… she could be right there.

Directly outside of the locker rooms, in the Prep Lobby. Speaking with a group of soldiers who barely even glance at him as he skids to a halt. 

The Captain is dressed no different than she was yesterday; the same black tank top, combat pants, standard issue boots. She seems to be addressing her squad, from what he overhears. A team of five, excluding her. Two women, and three men; most of which he recognizes. 

Corporal Nadia Brooks, to the Captain's right. A young Latina woman, a soldier from the military. 

Corporal Francis Sinlain, beside Nadia. An older African-American man, previously retired military.

He doesn't recognize the second man beside Francis, though he appears to be in his late twenties; listening to everything the Captain says with the utmost attention. The name on his ID reads Sergeant V. Wake. 

Sergeant Elizabeth Arden stands to Wake's right. An American woman in her mid-thirties, another soldier from the military.

And finally, Sergeant Leon Reinfield. An American man the same age as himself, a former policeman that NERO had brought in from the shit. 

"So it's recon?" Leon questions.

The Captain chuckles, folding her arms over her chest. "It's always recon."

"Better question, who are we babysitting today?" 

Cate raises a brow at Corporal Brooks, who merely shrugs.

"What? It's a valid question, Captain." 

Cate sighs. "It is, and while I agree, don't let them catch you saying it." 

"So who are we babysitting?" 

"Lieutenant Bentley." 

Nadia audibly groans, rolling her eyes. "Lord have mercy…"

"I doubt he will," Cate remarks, glancing down at her watch. "Now, get going, all of you. I'll meet you at the helipad."

Her squad salutes her, before splitting off to their respective locker rooms. Francis and Leon nod as they pass him, and Wake — Wake barely gave him a second look. 

_So Wake's an asshole. Noted._

"Afternoon, Lieutenant," Cate's voice calls. 

James hadn't been entirely sure she even noticed him, as the Captain hadn't acknowledged him in the slightest earlier. He looks over to her, finding her now mere inches away. "I- yes. Afternoon to you as well, Captain." 

She chuckles, glancing at her watch. "Little late, aren't you?" 

"It wasn't necessarily my choice."

"Oh, I'm certain it wasn't. Is there anything I can help you with?"

"I um… Yes, actually." James bites his lip. He'd rehearsed his apology on the way back to the facility, but every word escapes him. "I need to speak with you." 

Cate nods, glancing at her watch again. "Unfortunately, you've caught me at a bad time Lieutenant. My field op is scheduled to take off in the next thirty minutes." 

"Oh. I uh, of course." James mutters, taking a step forward. "Excuse me, Captain." 

"We're supposed to return at 21:30."

He stops abruptly a few feet shy of the hallway, turning to face her.

"Before dinner. If you'd like, we can talk then?" 

James finds himself at a loss for words. Of all things, he hadn't expected her to willingly reschedule his own request. "I- I don't see an issue with that, Captain."

"Perfect." She says, wearing the faintest hint of a smile as she turns towards the women's locker room. "I'll see you tonight, Lieutenant."

He watches her disappear behind the door. 

21:30, she told him. He checks his watch. 16:01. Well. It would appear he had some time before then. _But what to do with it_ , he wonders, pacing down the hall towards his room. He could always go to the lab, hopefully make some more progress towards his theories. Poke around administration, see if he can make any more sense about the other researchers work. Check the trackers he has on other helos. 

The card reader flashes green, and he steps into his room. Or, he yawns, he could take a nap. It certainly wasn't the worst idea. He'd only gotten a couple hours of sleep before his op. He pulls off his boots, tucking them under his desk. Practically falls into bed, staring up at grey ceiling. _Yeah_ , he thinks, feeling a wave of fatigue wash over him. _Just… a short rest_.

He'd woken up several hours later, around 19:00; decided to check on some of his trackers. A couple of them were out in the field, doing God knows what. They may work for the same people, but they haven't the slightest clue what the other is doing. Only the higher ups have clarity on that. 

His radio chirps. The sound of chopper blades causing him to jump, Cate's voice barely audible over the noise.

"O'Brian, come in."

" _Christ._ Uh, this is O'Brian, over."

His radio chirps again, the thrumming of the helo quieter than before. 

"Did I scare you?" She chuckles. "We've just landed, I'm making my way to de-con as we speak. I'll see you at Canteen. Polaris, out."

And just like that, his radio goes silent. 

He checks the time as he reaches for his boots, pulling them on with a modicum of haste. 21:42. 

_Better not keep her waiting, James._

He's already one foot out the door as he fights with his lab coat, nearly tripping over himself in the process. He somehow manages to get his arm through the sleeve, glancing around the hallway. Hopefully no one witnessed that. He isn't quite sure why he's so anxious. It's not like he's walking into a cave full of hibernating infected. Which… he has done before; and while he wouldn't say it was cathartic, it was somehow less stressful than this. He sighs, attempting to will away his nerves. It's just dinner. With a woman. A _particularly_ _attractive_ woman. Like a date. No. No, no no. That's worse. That's infinitely worse. 

_It's just. Dinner._ He tells himself, rounding the corner to the Dining Hall. _Not a date_. 

It couldn't be if he wanted it to. NERO policy specifically states that fraternization between soldiers and researchers alike is forbidden — with the sole exception being pre-married couples. Even then, they don't endorse any kind of physicality between parties; though he's certain that doesn't stop some. 

James glances down at his watch as he enters the Hall, ignoring the bustle of people around him. 21:56, almost dinner time. He searches for her face amongst the many tables, full of soldiers and the occasional researcher. He spots Nadia sitting with Adkov, along with Leon, and Francis. But not the Captain. He grabs an MRE from Canteen before finding an empty table further away from the other groups. 

He checks the time once more as he pulls up a chair. 22:01. She hadn't forgotten, had she? It isn't possible she got dragged out on another op — half her squad is in the Dining Hall. Unless… unless she stood him up?

"O'Brian? Earth to Lieutenant O'Brian."

" _Jesus-"_ James shouts, smacking his hand off the table in the process. His gaze snaps upward to find Cate, standing directly in front of him. Looking extremely amused. 

"Catherine, actually." She smirks, setting her tray down onto the table as she sinks into a nearby chair. "So?"

James blinks at her, stunned. "I uh, pardon?"

Cate merely raises a brow, wrapping her hands around the mug on her tray. "You said you needed to speak with me?"

 _Oh_. _Right_. James composes himself the best he can. Taking a long, deep breath, before meeting Cate's eyes. "I wanted to give you my sincerest apologies regarding my intrusion on your privacy yesterday morning. I admit I am at fault, for my curiosity got the better of me. I will take responsibility for my transgressions in any way you see fit, Captain." 

He'd anticipated many different outcomes for this scenario. All the many ways the Captain could possibly send him through hell and back. What he hadn't anticipated, however, was this. Cate, doubled over with laughter. Near hysterics.

"Jesus motherfucking Christ." She giggles, brushing the tears from the corner of her eyes. " _Oh_ _my god_." 

It takes her about a minute to calm down, folding her hands together as she clears her throat. 

"Tell me, James," she says, leaning forward ever so slightly as her gaze meets his. "Do you really think I give a shit?" 

To say he's taken aback would be an understatement, staring at her in disbelief. "I- I'm sorry?"

"My point, Lieutenant," She pauses, a small smile resting on her lips, "is that I don't care." 

She… she doesn't care? That, for all he knew, had been classified documents he'd seen? This has to be some sort of trap. James narrows his eyes. "What kind of fool do you take me for, Captain?" 

Cate chuckles, reaching for her mug. "A _complete and utter_ one, truth be told." She sips at her drink, her stare unwavering as she rests her chin atop her free hand. "For honestly believing that I'd fill out _classified_ documents in public." 

James feels as though he's been slapped when she smirks, her eyes glittering with amusement. Thinking on it, he supposes there's nothing classified about a Sector Informational. Hell, most of them were filled out in crowded rooms. But, that didn't explain her other form… "What about the other one? The- the specialty weapons request?" 

"Oh, so you did see that one," she hums.

"Yes. Yes I did. And you cannot tell me that something labeled 'Elite priority' isn't a classified document!" He objects, smacking his hand down onto the table as he stands.

Cate simply rolls her eyes, taking another sip of her drink. "God forbid every researcher here is like you," she mutters. "Because if that's the case, serving here is going to be a hell of a time." 

James opens his mouth to protest, when she fixes him with a stern, icy glare. A simple look that could freeze over hell.

"No, Lieutenant. A speciality weapons request isn't a classified document. They are a _restricted_ document, for the sole reason that they don't want every damn soldier here running around with weapons they aren't trained to use." Her tone is cold, her previous amusement replaced with a sort of bitter annoyance. "As for the 'Elite priority', I am one of the few NERO operatives who survived the initial outbreak. That alone garners me the title." 

_So, what Adkov had said was true._ He barely resists the urge to look away when she stands, folding her arms across her chest.

"Will that be all, Lieutenant O'Brian?"

No. No that wasn't all. Not anymore. Now, he had more questions than ever; but they would have to wait. 

"...Yes, Captain. My apologies." He utters, sinking back down into his chair with his head hung low. He doesn't dare look up at her, waiting for her to leave. Expecting her to leave. 

It'd be no understatement to say he's surprised when Cate sits back down, reaching for her mug with a huff. She doesn't pay any particular attention to him as she drinks, setting it down after a moment to pick up her MRE. Well, If she's simply going to ignore him…

They eat in silence, save the occasional crinkle of packaging and soft 'tink' of Cate's nails against her mug as she alternates between it and her food. James would be lying if he said the quiet didn't bother him, but with how angry he'd made the Captain, he wouldn't risk trying to start a conversation.

Suddenly her watch beeps, loud and shrill. Cate sighs into her mug, setting it down onto the table as she glances around the sparsely populated room. She then looks to her wrist, muttering something he doesn't quite catch as she dismisses the alarm. 

Not a moment after, the familiar chirp of a radio sounds.

"Captain Lyithara, come in," Bentley's voice calls.

Cate merely rolls her eyes, bringing her mug to her lips as she finishes the last of the beverage.

"Captain Lyithara. Lieutenant Bentley to Captain Lyithara, please respond."

She unclips the radio from her belt, leaning back in the chair. She seems rather indifferent to Bentley's paging, the radio loosely grasped in her hand. 

It doesn't chirp a second time as Bentley speaks, a clear indication he'd accidentally left the line open; his voice slightly muffled, and distant. "Oh, goddamnit Lyithara! Why won't you answer me!" 

"Polaris," a voice replies. Corporal Sinlain.

"I- What did you say, Corporal?" 

"Polaris," Sinlain repeats. "She responds to Polaris."

"What the hell does the Captain's middle name have to do with her not responding?!"

"It's not her middle name," another voice cuts in, clearly annoyed. It sounds male, the faintest hint of an accent bleeding through. "It's her goddamn code name, and nine times out of ten she'll respond to it before her rank and last name."

Bentley makes a quite, uneasy noise into the radio, before his voice becomes clear again. "Polaris, come in." 

Cate wears the faintest hint of a smirk as she answers. "This is Polaris, over."

"There you are, Captain! I was wondering if we'd be able to schedule an early take off for tonight's operation? Scans show increased activity from the infected in the region and I-" 

"You're in the Lobby?"

"I- um, yes, Captain," Bentley responds, exasperated. "The rest of your squad is already here. I took the liberty of assembling them."

"Then get your ass through Prep. Polaris, out."

She changes channels before Bentley can reply, her tongue gliding across her bottom lip. "Wake, come in."

The previously unidentified voice speaks. "Evening, Polaris. What can I do for you?'

 _So, that's Sergeant Wake's voice._ James isn't fond of his tone, far too honeyed for a normal conversation. The Captain doesn't seem to be bothered in the slightest, her body language would even suggest she encourages it. 

"I've approved Bentley's request. The sooner we're out and back, the better. Especially if long range is showing an increase of infected in the region. Go through Prep and wait for me at the helipad. Tell the pilot I shouldn't be longer than twenty minutes." 

Wake lets out a low whistle. "I agree, Captain. I'd rather not be on tonight's menu. See you at the chopper. Wake, out."

"You'll have to excuse me, Lieutenant. It would seem my next field op got pushed forward." She says it as though he hadn't heard her entire conversation, her expression blank and unreadable. 

James barely glances at her. Shrugs. Distracts himself with his dinner. As sardonic as her personality is, Cate had answered his questions; without any sort of smoke and mirrors. Even though he'd pissed her off. Even though she could've gotten up and left without another word. She answered him. 

And what had he done in return? Sat before her, wallowing in his self-pity. Any chance he had of redeeming himself was gone. Screwed over by his own pride and paranoia. 

_Congratulations, James. She no longer gives a shit about you._

He's startled out of his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder, it's touch gentle. Cate stands beside him now, her expression unwavering as he peers up at her in confusion. 

Though the indifferent look in her eyes remains, her voice is soft as she speaks. "Goodnight, James." 

The Captain's touch lingers as she withdraws her hand, the only indication of her departure besides the quiet 'thunk' of her combat boots against the tiled floors. 

James listens until her footsteps fade, his dinner discarded and forgotten. His head falls into his hands, dishivling his hair. 

One thought echoing throughout his mind.

_What have I done?_


End file.
